A Marauder To The Last
by But The Kids Like It
Summary: A snapshot of the deaths of each of the Marauders.
1. James

****_A Marauder To The Last_

Part Four

**James**

"Finally, he's asleep."

Lily appeared in the doorway, smiling, and James patted the seat next to him. She flopped down on the couch, resting her head on his chest, and he draped his arm around her slender shoulders. "I've eaten so much candy tonight, I think I'm going to puke," he groaned, patting his distended stomach.

"Me too," she said with a laugh. "Although I don't think either of us can rival Peter. I'm surprised he was able to get home at all- he must have gained ten extra pounds!"

"And Sirius- he's thin as a rail; _how_ does he keep all the cake in there? The laws of physics really shouldn't allow that. Do you think he accidentally ate a Vanishing Cupboard once?"

She chuckled, and then grew solemn. "I'm worried about Remus, James. If at all possible, he seems to be getting skinnier. Do you think he's all right, what with, you know, his- _condition?_ And he's living all by himself in that little house..." Their fingers entwined, and James found himself suddenly glad for his own little house, safe with his little family in it. Leaning down, he planted a light kiss on the side of Lily's neck, his cheek brushing against her silk-soft red hair.

"I'll go check on him tomorrow," he promised. "Sirius was looking out for him, I think, but recently they've been acting very odd around each other. Tonight was fun, though. The Marauders, together once again-"

"-and as always, up to no good. I don't think the neighborhood children will ever be the same again." With a sigh, Lily pushed herself off the couch and shuffled towards the kitchen. "Would you like some tea?"

"Sure," said James, letting his eyes roam down her backside. Having Harry hadn't seemed to have affected her figure negatively; if anything, she was more beautiful than ever. He smiled appreciatively. It would be November in an hour or so, and the nights were getting cold. Tonight, though, he had his own personal fire-haired, emerald-eyed heater.

She returned a minute later with two steaming mugs, and he quickly leaned forward and arranged two coasters on the coffee table, _before_ she could yell at him to do it. He received a kiss for his troubles.

Picking up the mug with the little cartoon stag on it, James sipped his tea and nearly dropped it. "Ow!" he exclaimed, setting the mug down. More scalding liquid splashed over his hands, and he jumped up, scorched tongue lolling like Padfoot's, shaking his hand in an attempt to relieve the burn. Lily looked at him reprovingly and tossed her crimson hair.

"It's _tea,"_ she told him. "It's _supposed_ to be hot. It's _always_ hot, you great bloody dolt." He looked at her sadly, and she relented. "Come; let's run it under some cold water." Taking his good hand in hers, she led him into the kitchen and turned on the faucet, letting the cold water soothe his burnt skin. She handed him a glass to drink from, and when he was finished, he stooped down to kiss her.

"What would I do without you?" he murmured, and she cocked one elegant eyebrow and murmured something very rude in his ear. He jerked back in surprise, and then smirked. "You've been spending too much time with Sirius, Lilypad," he said, flicking her nose, and scooped her up in his arms. She yelped and wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Now, I estimate we have about two hours before Harry wakes up again," decided James with a smile. "Let's make the best use of our time, shall we?" He laid her down gently on the sofa and brushed a stray strand of hair from her freckled face. Suddenly shy, she lowered her eyelashes demurely.

"I need to lose a few pounds," she protested, crossing her arms over her chest. He uncrossed them. She pulled her shirt self-consciously over her stomach, and he lifted it up again, and kissed her navel. He loved it when she was like this, because it meant that he could watch her freckled cheeks grow warm with pleasure and embarrassment as he listed everything he loved about her.

"You and Harry are the best things that ever happened to me, and I don't want to lose a single bit of you- not even this," he added, pinching her love handles. She giggled and swatted his hand away, pushing herself into a sitting position..

"You win," she sighed, giving up the fight. "Let's-"

The door burst open, and framed by Halloween night was the face they had all come to fear: pale, proud, with bloodstone eyes and a cruel smile. James' stomach dropped, and both were on their feet in a second. Despite all of their precautions, he had come for them, for Harry- omniscient, omnipotent; everything they had worked for was moot.

"Lily, take Harry! It's him! Go! Run!" His own frantic voice sounded faraway, and the feeling was draining from his limbs, replaced with lead. He shoved his wife in the direction of stairs, and behind him, he could hear her breath heavy with fear as she stumbled up the steps towards their son, sleeping innocently in his crib. "I'll hold him off-" he faced Voldemort, thoughts kicking up to exam speed and past. He let them run on without bothering to check if they were right or not; they always were.

Peter had betrayed them to the Dark Lord, and now James was about to die. It seemed Sirius was wrong, after all: somehow, Voldemort had known that Peter was Secret-Keeper. Into his mind darted an image of the small man being tortured for information, blurting out his greatest secret, and then his back arching, mouth opening in a soundless scream as he was killed.

Poor Wormy. He always was weak, and the rest of them would pay for it. But Lily and Harry would be safe; he was sure of it. His family would live to vanquish Voldemort.

All these thoughts had passed in less than a second. James didn't even have time to speak a curse before a jet of green light tore him away and he collapsed limp, lifeless, to his living room carpet.


	2. Sirius

_A Marauder To The Last_

Part Two

**Sirius**

The magnificent fireplace in the main parlor of Number 12 Grimmauld Place crackled in an ominous manner unique to the strange old house. With a sigh, Sirius put his feet up on the green leather ottoman and stared grimly into the flames, entertaining dark fantasies about what he would do to Peter Pettigrew and the rest of his scumbag friends- as soon as he could get out of this house, that was.

The door slammed closed, and Sirius jerked up. Could it be-? A mission, finally? But no, the footsteps were too familiar. He slumped back down into his chair as Remus trudged into the room, looking pale and weary and bleeding from a gash on one cheek. Sirius had spent all last night with him, as it had been the full moon, but it was a fallacy of days long gone. Instead of lightening the monotony, it had turned it into a deeper sort of misery.

"Doing all right, Pads?" asked Remus as he collapsed into an armchair, glancing at his friend sideways. Sirius hated it when he did that. He knew he was being handled like a bomb, liable to explode in someone's face at the slightest provocation, and the worst part was that it probably _was_ safer to step careful around Sirius just now.

"Sure," grumbled Sirius, twisting his mouth into a mockery of a smile. "Don't mind me; I've just been cleaning this house from cellar to attic, battling doxies and _that_ thing-" he flicked his wand at the currently silent portrait of his mother- "keeping home safe and clean for the valiant Order members, don't you know? Sitting around, passing messages and occasionally being allowed to go out for a walk... as a dog. At this point, I may have superseded even _you_ at housekeeping. So, _doing all right,_ Moony?"

Remus looked at him reproachfully, and Sirius felt guilt twist the knife in his gut a little more. His best friend- one of the only two people he had in his world now- was sitting across from him, scarred and gaunt from his constant battle against himself and the enemies that were hell-bent on killing them all, and Sirius sat in this house all day and then yelled at him when he returned.

But right then, he really, really hated Remus.

"I wouldn't mind trading places with you for a day or two if I could," said the werewolf in a low voice, scuffing his shoe on the wooden floorboards. "Sorry, Pads, but war isn't fun for any of us."

There was a time when he would have given voice to the cutting remarks on the tip of his tongue, but Sirius choked them back and instead said, "Here, let me get that cut on your cheek for you. _Episkey._" The skin on his cheek sealed itself over, and Sirius leaned over and wiped a drop of blood off Remus's face. Penitence.

Before Moony could utter thanks, the fire flared up, turning a sickly green color, and Snape's greasy face appeared. Sirius grimaced in disgust.

"Black, Lupin," said Snape, looking about as pleased to see the pair as they were to see him. Nonetheless, both leaned forward, eager for news. "I was just checking in," continued the Potions professor uneasily, craning his neck to look around. "Is everything well?"

"Yes," replied Remus, looking puzzled. "And on your end?"

"Potter's got detention again," Snape answered, lip curling slightly, "so yes, I suppose you could say all is as normal." He cast Sirius a curious look, and then vanished from the fire.

"Harry takes after his father, doesn't he?" Sirius smiled and leaned back in his chair. "Good boy. I hope he's giving that witch Umbridge hell- and Snivellus, too." He followed up with another word that rhymed with witch, and surprisingly enough, Remus laughed.

"Remember when we used to give witches hell?" Both got dreamy looks in their eyes, and fell into animated reminiscence of summer days long gone and pranks well remembered.

A couple of hours had passed, and one by one, other Order members had begun to stream in- Moody, Tonks, Kingsley. Kreacher had sullenly brought them all food, and now all five were seated around the long Black dining table, speaking in subdued voices.

Suddenly, a mist-white doe burst through the wall into the middle of the table. Tonks dropped her spoon into the soup, splashing Remus and Kingsley with the scalding liquid.

"_Harry had a vision that Black was being tortured in the Department of Mysteries,"_ spoke the doe in Snape's voice. "_He and his friends have not returned from their detention in the Forbidden Forest. I believe he may have attempted a rescue mission to the Ministry, and thus will probably require a rescue mission of his own. Black- don't leave the house. Dumbledore needs to know what has happened."_

Immediately, bowls were being shoved away and benches pushed back. "Apparate to the Atrium, regroup there and get down to the Department of Mysteries," growled Moody as they hurried towards the front door. Sirius stared after them, anger distorting his usually handsome features. _Useless, again._ Remus was the last to go, casting an apologetic glance over his shoulder as he pulled the door open.

"We'll keep him safe," he promised.

Bugger that.

As soon as the door clicked closed, Sirius was on his feet, pulling his cloak on. "Kreacher!" he shouted. The house-elf appeared with a crack, bowing and scraping whilst muttering rebelliously under his breath.

"How can Kreacher help Master? _Traitor, scum, disgrace to his mother-"_

"Shut up," Sirius cut him off. "When Dumbledore gets here, tell him we've all gone to the Department of Mysteries. Voldemort laid a trap, and Harry and his friends have fallen into it. Got it?" Kreacher nodded sullenly, and the last of the Blacks gripped his wand and strode out the front door, turning on his heel.

With a _crack_, he Apparated into the Atrium, deserted at this hour. The others were halfway into the lift, and Sirius sprinted to catch up with them, sliding in just as the doors closed.

"What are you doing here, Black?" demanded Moody as they descended. "You were told to stay at headquarters. You're a wanted man; you can't just show up at the Ministry." His magical eye whizzed anxiously in its socket, scanning the confined space.

"As if," snarled Sirius. "This is as much my fight as yours. More, even. I left Kreacher with the message for Dumbledore." No one else bothered arguing. Remus shot him an irritatingly worried glance, somehow mixed in with gratitude.

_Ding._ The lift doors slid open, and the quintet stepped out into a gloomy corridor. Sirius shivered, remembering the last time he had been in the crypts of the Ministry, and quickly followed the rest down the hall as the sounds of battle reached their ears. A giddy tingle, a mixture of rage and euphoria, began to creep from his wand hand up to his brain, down into the rest of his body. They stepped through a door and found themselves within a large cylinder, surrounded by identical doors. Immediately, the room began to whirr, spinning dizzyingly until the door that they had come from was lost. Friendly place, this.

Shouts and crashes were loud in their ears now, coming from two doors, side by side. "Split up," ordered Moody. "Black, Lupin, with me. We'll take the left door. Kingsley, you and Nymphadora take the right. On three." He and Kingsley placed their hands on the door knobs. "One, two... _three."_

All five burst into another circular room, lined with steps and Death Eaters. Harry stood alone in the center, below an archway set upon a dais, looking awfully small. The Longbottom boy was lying on the floor, twitching and sobbing.

"_Stupefy!"_ screamed Tonks as Lucius Malfoy turned. The Order needed no other cue. Sirius leapt into the fray, brandishing his wand at a masked Death Eater.

His enemy was shooting spells at him so quickly that he had no time to say the words- just think it, and slash his wand, and hope for the best. Deadly light zipped back and forth, and sweat ran down their faces.

A hesitation. Sirius leapt upon it, Stunning the Death Eater into oblivion, and whirled around, searching for another opponent. There- Harry and Neville were prone on the ground, Dolohov standing over them with his wand raised. Sirius charged, slamming into the swine and knocking him off his feet. Immediately, the Death Eater leapt up and began to duel him even more ferociously than his other adversary had.

From behind: "_Petrificus Totalus!"_ Dolohov went rigid and fell backwards onto the marble, face frozen in shock. That was going to leave a nasty bruise. If they were lucky, he might even be concussed. Behind him was Harry, glasses askew and wand out, a fiercely proud look on his face.

Sirius grinned. "Nice one," he said, and ducked, pulling his godson down as beams of red light shot towards them. "Now I want you to get out of-" down again; those Death Eaters really never let up, did they?

No, they didn't. Poor Tonks- she was tumbling down the stairs now, either dead or about to be. Moony would be unhappy. Where was Moony, anyway? Wait, no time to think about that. The Longbottom boy was still on the ground, legs twitching madly, and somehow the glass ball in Harry's hands was still intact. Priority one: "Harry, take the prophecy, grab Neville, and run!"

With that, he jumped up and ran towards Bellatrix, the raging c-u-you-know-what. Insane joy lit up her face as he charged. "Cousin!" she shrieked in that awful voice, bringing him back to Christmas holidays spent in silver parlors with his sadistic relatives. "How nice to see you!" She cackled as they fought, and Sirius felt glee and wrath mix together in his blood, lending him wings. His wand was impossibly light in his hand, an extension of his arm that jabbed and slashed with superior strength and speed than anything he had ever known before. He felt that if he stopped even for a moment, his heart might float up out of his throat.

Bellatrix was the epitome of everything he loathed. She was mad, hateful, impossibly cruel, blindly worshipful, and generally slime. She made the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black proud; _he_ would make the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black dead.

"Come on, you can do better than that!" he taunted, ducking under a curse and shooting another off with a flick of his wand. He laughed, and her next blast hit him in the heart.

He froze, numbness spreading outwards from his chest, fingers weakening. Everyone else seemed to have slowed down: Moody was still dueling with someone- Yaxley?- and the brilliant colors between them were fuzzy and sluggish. Kingsley was panting, standing over a defeated Death Eater. Remus wore the same focused look that he had when he was taking a test and didn't know Sirius was looking at him- biting his lip, brows furrowed. Bellatrix was in convulsions of laughter at her triumph, no surprise there. And Harry- Harry was staring at him, his own shock and disbelief mirrored.

Sirius fell, his wand clattering to the floor from nerveless fingers.


	3. Peter

****_A Marauder To The Last_

__Part Three

**Peter**

The noises coming from the drawing room were awful. Pressing his lips together, Peter clamped his hands over his ears, hating the way the cold metal felt against his head. The Mudblood girl was screaming, again and again, unending and agonizing. It hurt just to hear her. Bellatrix was exceptionally adept at the Cruciatus Curse; Peter knew that all too well. He shuddered a bit at the memory, and was simply glad that it wasn't him this time.

Below the floor, a boy was shouting. "_Hermione!"_ he roared, as if that could make a difference. It was the Weasley boy, Peter realized dimly, remembering all those years as his faithful companion. He felt a small pang- life as a rat had been demeaning, but not nearly as demeaning as this. He had certainly been more well fed.

The girl screamed again, and he remembered her hateful cat, an orange demon with claws at least as big as his head. He was the one who had given Peter away. Right now, Peter could be safe in a dormitory at Hogwarts, chewing on a carrot or a jelly bean. Sirius could still be in Azkaban, the Dark Lord could still be nothing more than a scattered shadow, and everything could have remained peaceful for everyone.

Yes, this entire war was the damned cat's fault. Peter fumed silently for another minute, until he realized that his thoughts were dangerously approaching treason. The Dark Lord did not deal mercifully with those who betrayed him, and Peter did not want to take the Mudblood's place shrieking and writhing on the floor. He had suffered it infinitely more times than she; let someone else take the fall for a little while.

The door creaked open, and the Malfoy boy poked his head in. From his days as Ron's companion, Peter remembered Draco being something of a self-important bully. Now, however, he only spoke when necessary, and generally hovered in the corners of rooms, looking pale and peaky. It seemed that war did not agree with him. He was a coward, just like Peter himself.

"They want you," he said quietly, jerking his head towards the drawing room. He disappeared once again, and Peter hurried after. It never did to keep the Malfoys waiting, and even less the Lestranges.

"Wormtail!" Bellatrix whirled on him, dark hair floating in a mad nebula around her white, cruel face. He shrank back involuntarily, and she sneered. "I heard something in the dungeon. Go investigate."

"Yes, Mistress," he mumbled, casting a baleful look at her the moment she turned her back. He hated that name. _Wormtail_. In his school days, it had been something of a joke. It was a nickname given to him by his three best friends in the world, two of whom were dead now and one who wanted very much to kill him. He swallowed back that unnamable emotion that flared up upon thought of Remus, who had always been kind to him whenever James and Sirius cast him aside like old socks. Patient, gentle Remus had always been there to help him with his homework- but then again, patient, gentle Remus had had an easy time of it, hadn't he? It probably made him feel self-important, such an altruistic soul, helping out poor, dumb Peter with his Transfiguration homework. After all, hadn't he too cast Peter out the moment they graduated? They were out in the real world, and now Remus was the one at a disadvantage, the dirty werewolf.

But despite the hatred he felt for his friends, dead and distant, Wormtail belonged to them. Peter might be a Death Eater now, but Wormtail, Moony, Padfoot and Prongs would always be Marauders. Bellatrix had no right to use that name.

He hated that witch.

Taking a deep breath, he descended into the dungeons of Malfoy Manor. It was probably the Weasley boy shouting again; did she expect their prisoners to be quiet and unobtrusive? _No, Mistress Lestrange, we wouldn't want to cause you any more inconvenience than we already are by occupying your cellar. Please, take your time in killing us, as you're apt to do._

Standing outside the cellar door, Peter took out his wand and licked his lips nervously. "Stand back," he called. "Stand away from the door. I am coming in." No backing out now. Turning the knob, he pushed the door open and stepped in, waving his wand. The bright light blinded him momentarily- _and where had that light come from?-_ and then rough hands were grabbing him, muffling his screams and trying to snatch away his wand.

The rat within struggled for dominance, panic signals flaring up across his brain, telling him to run, bite, claw, rip and tear- to do whatever he could to escape from the giants who were trying to kill him and steal his magic. His wand was spluttering and sparking, mirroring his rage and fear, and with his free hand he grabbed Harry's throat.

Much as he hated the metal hand most of the time, he had to admit it was much stronger than its counterpart. The trio struggled for purchase, the Weasley boy with a death-grip on his wand hand, and Harry's face turning blue as he kept his fingers firmly clamped over Peter's mouth.

"What is it, Wormtail?" Lucius' voice floated down the stairs and through the open door. Peter renewed his struggles, shouting vainly into Harry's hand.

"Nothing!" called the Weasley boy in a humiliatingly squeaky imitation of Peter. "All fine!" The older man fumed. He was _not _going to be bested by two boys who hadn't even finished school yet.

"You're going to kill me? After I saved your life?" Harry gasped out, green eyes locking onto brown. Those were Lily's eyes, James' hair. "You owe me, Wormtail!" Unbidden, his own words of four years ago sprang back into his mind. _James would have understood, Harry... he would have shown me mercy..._ His fingers slackened, trembling with horror. Feeding the Dark Lord information was one thing; murdering James Potter with his own bare hands was another. Wait, no, not James... Harry, wasn't it? Yes, Harry...

The Weasley boy snatched his wand away, and Peter looked up at them in terror as it began to dawn on him. He had just betrayed Lord Voldemort. The very name made his knees tremble. On his forearm, the Dark Mark began to burn, and his metal hand moved towards him of its own accord, identical to the way it had moved towards Harry's throat.

"No," he whimpered, but how could he run from his own hand?

Cold steel tightened around his throat, crushing his windpipe with a powerful fist. Harry was shouting, and both boys were attempting to pull the hand away from his throat. Peter's vision faded in and out; could it be James, trying to save his life one last time? No, he had saved James. For once, he had saved James.

But he didn't want to die. He wasn't ready!

His legs gave way, and his heart not soon after.


	4. Remus

_A Marauder To The Last_

Part Four

**Remus**

The worst thing about war, Remus decided, was waiting for the battle to commence. Pacing the darkness of the Hogwarts grounds, he could feel his stomach doing back flips. Everything was so _familiar._ Once, this had been a hallowed place, where the worst thing that could happen to him was getting jinxed by a Slytherin. Well, that hadn't changed much, had it? Only instead of Furnunculus, it would be Avada Kedavra, and instead of the hospital wing, it would be the morgue.

Behind him was a group of students, aged fifteen to seventeen. Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaws- all so young, with their school robes hanging off their skinny frames, pushing their glasses up their noses and adjusting their sweaty grips on their wands. Remus had watched people die many, many times before, but never a child. He couldn't help but imagine Teddy in their place, a tall, gangly boy with his mother's confidence.

He made up his mind that he would do whatever it took to protect these children.

Off in the distance, the Quidditch pitch stood bathed in moonlight, its brass hoops glinting. Through rain and shine, wind and sleet, Remus had stood in those stands, yelling himself hoarse as he struggled to track the wild, darting movements of the brightly colored players. Nearer was the Whomping Willow, home to horrific, humiliating and marvelous memories all at once. His images of Hogwarts past were painted in red and gold.

Everything about this place reminded him of the Marauders. The two were inseparable. Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs would always reside at Hogwarts, the cleverest pranksters that school had ever known. Remus Lupin, Peter Pettigrew, Sirius Black and James Potter had grown up to love and fight and kill and die, but the Marauders lived on in youth, delighting in their own brilliance and the brilliance of the world around them.

That was the world he was fighting to keep safe- not this dark, desolate and desecrated sphere, but the world that he had once lived in and Teddy would one day live in. This too he swore.

Out of the gloom appeared a group of white masks, topped by pointed black hats. Someone behind him let out a muffled noise of fear. "It will be all right," he promised them, risking a glance behind him. He hadn't taught for four years now, but they were still his students. He was responsible for them.

A jet of red light shot towards them. "_Protego!"_ Remus shouted, deflecting it, and the battle began in earnest. His pulse quickened, but his thoughts slowed. Fighting came naturally to him- he was, after all, a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. This was nothing more than a practical exercise, in which a bad grade meant certain death.

In the night, the magic was beautiful, arcing like multi-colored fireworks. The wandwork was graceful, elegant, even as it was fierce, or maybe because it was fierce. Dolohov fought like a wild animal, lunging at Remus again and again, slashing his wand knife-like through the air. Remus would recognize the Death Eater anywhere. Some could stay anonymous behind their masks, but others had been fighting this war for nigh on twenty years. Their gait, their form, the way they held their wands- it was unmistakable. In a way, they were like old friends.

Someone fell to the right of Remus with a sharp cry, and was still. He hesitated, eyes sliding towards the still figure- unmasked, bareheaded, a blue tie! - and just barely stumbled out of the way of Dolohov's curse. Violent violet light scored his arm, and he sucked in a sharp breath. Dolohov snarled and redoubled his efforts.

The pounding of many feet, large and small and far from human, echoed from behind Voldemort's army. Dolohov risked a glance behind him- big mistake. Lips twitching up at the corners, Remus dispatched him with a Stunner to the chest.

"Remus Lupin."

Teeth bared in a feral grimace, Fenrir Greyback emerged like a nightmare apparition. "Remus, Remus, Remus... My son. You should have surrendered when you had the chance. We would have welcomed you into the fold gladly, much more gladly than _they_ have." He gestured with filthy hands towards the army of Hogwarts. "My Lord is more merciful, less prejudiced. It is a pity, then, that you had to kill so many of his faithful servants."

"Pity indeed," agreed Remus tartly, unwilling to let the werewolf see any sign of weakness. "One more shan't make a difference." Greyback leapt out of the way just a moment before Remus' jinx hit the place where he had been standing. With a wordless growl, he disappeared into the night, bounding towards Hogwarts.

"_Petrificus Totalus!" _Remus shouted, whirling after Greyback, blood thumping hot and loud in his ears. "_Stupefy! Tarantallegra! Impedimenta! Reducto! Cruci-"_

Something slammed into him, knocking the breath out of him before he could finish the Unforgivable Curse. "Remus, _no!"_ cried a terribly familiar voice, and he looked down into the face of his wife.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded, quickly disentangling himself from her- just in time, as a blast of green light split the air between them. Tonks turned, flicking her wand at their attacker, and he wasn't sure that she had ever looked more beautiful that in that moment, battling for their lives.

"I came to _fight,"_ she retorted, turning back to him with eyes flashing emerald. "Teddy's safe with my mother. You can't-" he cut her off, leaning down to kiss her hard on the mouth. "No time," she whispered as they broke away, and side by side, returned to the fight.

By now, Dolohov had recovered and was quickly overpowering a pair of fifth-year Hufflepuffs, who were stumbling backwards under his onslaught. Tonks leapt to their aid, and Remus turned to a masked Death Eater who couldn't have been much older than the students he was dueling.

Springing forward, Remus nearly tripped over the body of the slain Ravenclaw girl who lay spread-eagled on the grass, grey eyes wide-open and staring. He forced himself to ignore her; the horror could be drowned later.

Somehow, he had backed his opponent up to the vicinity of Whomping Willow, and that temperamental tree stirred to life, dispatching the Death Eater with a blow of one of its thick branches. The boy went flying, and did not get up again. Remus spared a moment of thanks for the tree that had protected him for so many years, and then sprinted back towards his wife.

Green lightning shot towards her chest from a few yards away, giving her face a sickly pallor. "_Tonks!"_ he roared, his eyes doing the instant math. There was no way he could reach her in time- but she didn't need him; she could protect herself just fine. He swelled with pride as she battled the Dark Lord's mindless servants, and at the same time wished that she weren't here at all.

The spell that finally cut him down was one he recognized, even without the incantation. This one belonged to Severus Snape, and he wondered if it were the man himself behind the mask. It slashed his throat open, and he fell like a marionette whose strings had been severed.

He knew what the other three must have felt, now. They were with him, urging him to finish it, once and for all. The desperate desire for survival belonged to Peter, giving him speed- oh, how he wanted to live! From Sirius he could feel the delicious power lent by adrenaline, coursing through his veins and drowning out all distractions. And then there was James, willing to do anything with the knowledge that he was giving away time to his child.

A second later, Tonks collapsed to the ground beside him, dead instantly. His vision was already fading, but he groped weakly for her hand, entwining his fingers in hers, and surrendered his soul.

_End_


End file.
